


soccer eyes

by beatricethecat



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, Football | Soccer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatricethecat/pseuds/beatricethecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka plays for the USA soccer team. Helena plays for England. Flirting occurs. A bet is made, a game is played and eventually the loser has to pay up. Originally a one-shot turned that into a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea just wouldn’t leave me alone after watching the USA vs. China the other day. I’m sure it’s been done before, but I needed to get it out of my system. I had a little more, but I’m trying not to labor over it too much and just get it out, because today is the finals! Pure fluff ahead.

Claudia Donovan, a forward, and Myka Bering, a defender for the USA Women's Soccer team sit in the bleachers taking notes during the English team's practice session.

“That one looks really tough.” Claudia points to a player currently yelling obscenities at her team.

“I think she’s pretty hot,” Myka says, a sly lopsided smirk crossing her face.

Claudia tilts her head and follows the woman as she walks the length of the penalty box, hands flying left and right, stamping her foot and nodding her head occasionally, tight jet black ponytail flying as if she were an agitated horse.

“I guess if you are into that pulsating raw nerve kinda energy.” Claudia purses her lips at the thought.

“Mmhmm,” Myka says dreamily, eyeing the goalie's firm backside with interest as she jogs back to her position.

Claudia elbows her in the ribs.

“Ow!” Myka’s eyebrows fly up.

"We’re supposed to scouting the team, not other players _assets_ ,” Claudia says mockingly.

“Fine." Myka gives Claudia a sarcastic grimace, then turns back to the field.

"Look at number twelve over there, she’s got some tricks up her sleeve. You’re going to have to watch out for her.” Claudia nods at number twelve as her eyes follow the ball being passed back and forth.

Myka briefly glances at number twelve, but her eyes swiftly stray to the goalie, currently standing back toward Myka, jersey reading "Wells, #55.” Wells bounces on the balls of her feet as she yells sharply at her coach. When she turns to face the field her expression has hardened; invariably at the ready to tackle any action coming her way.

A few seconds later the ball comes flying towards the net, and Wells hurls herself in the air to intercept, lifting off the ground as if gravity is meaningless, obviously harboring the ability to fly.

Myka sits gaping.

“Close your mouth lover girl, you’re drooling,” Claudia announces gruffly.

“Um….ok.” Myka’s forgotten how to use words. She gives her head a shake. “Right, the game….I mean scouting the team…..” She palms the back of her neck.

Claudia sighs in annoyance. They both focus on Wells as she haughtily launches the ball back into play, all the while shouting at her teammates.

_“….that was a bloody damp squib you lot. All mouth and trousers you are. Hit me with something real why don’t you, or we might as well take an early bath…..”_

Wells' face shows a look of pure disdain as she runs back to her post.

Claudia’s brows collide as she shakes a hand frantically in the direction of the field. “What the hell did she just say? Was that even English?”

"I dunno, but it was kinda cute.” Myka releases an appreciative sigh.

“Ugh.” Claudia rolls her eyes.

After a bit more play on the field, the ball bounces offsides in Myka and Claudia’s direction.

Team England recedes into a huddle with their coach and someone yells, “Wells, go get the bloody ball you tosser."

Wells, clearly disgruntled at being told what to do, turns and scans the area, walking with contempt towards the ball once it is located. As she approaches, Claudia and Myka hear her muttering under her breath.

_“….can’t hold the baby for the lot of them and honestly rearranging the deck chairs is not going to help….bloody bunch of pansies……”_

She kicks the ball lightly and it bounces off of the stadium wall into the air. As she catches it her gaze meets Myka’s and the sneer on her face soon turns into a suggestive smile.

“Oh, hello.” Her eyes dart between Myka, who is grinning radiantly, and Claudia, who's look is more circumspect.

“I’m Helena. You two must be from the American team.” Hand on hip, she places her weight on one leg, exuding a well-worn confidence as she gives Myka a once over.

“I’m Myka, and this is Claudia,” Myka says nodding toward Claudia, still grinning ear to ear. She’s not ashamed to be hungrily eyeing Helena’s lips already.

Helena notices, and counters by running her gaze slowly over Myka’s form, starting at her loose curly ponytail, pausing strategically when she reaches her exposed neck, wetting her lips as she trails down toward Myka's trim calves, pulling back up to her eyes once she reaches Myka's ankles. Her lips curl into an even more wickedly suggestive smile.

Claudia’s not sure if she can roll her eyes any harder than she already has and aggressively looks away, letting out a pointed sound of exasperation.

Helena’s expression sobers, then morphs into a feigned standoffishness. “I’m afraid we’re not at our best today, but even so, I’m sure we can take you lot in a heartbeat.” She nods heartily in Claudia and Myka’s direction.

“You think?” Myka barks out. “ _I_ think we’re gonna be harder to take than you can imagine." She crosses her arms in a sort of playfully defensive way.

Helena narrows her eyes. _“Codswallop.”_

The word comes out of Helena's mouth so aggressively Myka thinks it sounds like a sneeze. She flinches.

Helena snickers once.

"I don't know what that means, but we'Il be kicking your limey asses _all_ up and down this stadium tomorrow, _goalie Wells_." Myka tries to sound tough but can't help eyeing Helena's cute ears.

_“—Wells! Stop flirting with the bollocking enemy and get your pasty asre over here….”_

Helena turns for a second to acknowledge a voice shrieking from the distance, then swings back to Myka.

"I'd very much like to see you try to 'kick my ass,’ _defender Bering_." With knowing smirk and an arched brow, Helena eyes Myka's lips, then gives a sassy wink.

Helena spins around and kicks the ball back onto the field, then bellows, “—Alright you ponce, no tears before bedtime, I'm coming….."

Myka covers her mouth with both hands to keep from bursting out laughing.

Claudia is having none of it. "Oh come _on_ , Myka. She's prancing, _prancing_ back onto the field."

Helena gives a coy glance back at Myka before her teammates begin shouting obscenities at her and tackle her to the ground.

Claudia has an epiphany and anxiously grabs Myka's shoulder, twisting her around. "Myka it's a ploy. She's using her charm to blind you, so you’re not studying their plays. I mean she already knew who we were…..."

"Yeah, maybe.” Myka’s star filled eyes follow Helena as she trots over to her position.

Helena gives a tiny wave with her oversized gloved hand to Myka. Attention divided, she has little time to react as the ball smacks her squarely in the skull.

Myka winces upon impact as if she felt the blow.

“Claud, do you think she'll give me her number later?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some before the game hijinks.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Slack kindly asked if I might top this story off a bit, and I think I have the guts to add two or three short chapters. Hope it passes muster with you all!

Much to Myka’s dismay, Myka and Claudia are called away before the English team’s practice ends. 

Helena and Myka do not meet again until the next day during their warm up for the England vs. U.S.A game. 

Myka spies Helena by the goal net though the swarm of players skillfully weaving in, out, and around each other on the field. She jogs casually in the direction of England's penalty area.

Helena dons a smarmy smirk as Myka’s figure draws near and nonchalantly saunters over to intercept. 

Myka slows her pace. “Hi,” she greets with a friendly grin while lightly jogging in place. 

“Alright,” Helena replies gruffly, offering a curt nod as she blithely eyes Myka’s curly ponytail airily bopping up and down.

“I, uh, just wanted to say, you know…..good luck tonight.” Myka blinks coquettishly. 

Helena smiles devilishly and places her neon mitted hands firmly on her hips. 

“Is that right, love? Awww, bless you," she spouts with a clear sarcasm. 

“Uh-huh.” Myka holds Helena's gaze as she begins to jog sideways.

Helena's head turns as far as it will go to the right, then springs back like a swinging door to the left, tracking Myka as she circles around her. “Well cheers to that and all, _mate_."

The third time Myka circles, Helena narrows her eyes, and reaches out like a bear catching salmon swimming upstream, grabbing Myka's arm firmly with her extra large gloved paw. 

Myka pushes forward, attempting to break free, throwing her weight and strength into the motion. She finds Helena's grip is iron clawed and decides to give up. 

Helena and drops her arm and takes a step back. Mouth parted, she gives Myka a cavalier glance up and down, then wets her lips. “You know, I welcome a bit of hard play tonight, _Bering_. Let’s hope you lot aren’t absolute rubbish." 

Myka crosses her arms and angles her eyes down, shaking her head slowly back and forth in short strokes. She sniggers confidently, wearing a lopsided smirk and looks up at Helena with obsinace in her eyes. "If _that’s_ the way you want to play it, _Wells,_ then fine. Fine. We _will_ be thoroughly kicking your asses all over the field tonight, though. Consider yourself warned.” She huffs dismissively.

Helena raises a brow and beams a wicked grin. "How about we sweeten the pot, doll. I've got a bang up idea…." 

“— _doll_?” Myka barks brazenly as her head flinches back, not realizing at first that she's said the word out loud.

Helena shifts a hair closer into Myka’s personal space, eyes toughening. She angles her head up, engaging Myka directly, nearly spitting out her reply. “Yeah. _Doll._ "

Myka’s nostrils flare wildly, and she raises her chin high, just now noticing she's got a good two to three inches on Helena. “Right, Ok. _What-ever._ " 

Helena throws Myka an apathetic look in response, mouth a thin line.

Myka steps back, puffing out her chest like a superhero, standing even taller, eyeing Helena up and down defiantly. "So, what's this ‘bang- up- idea’ miss _smartypants_."

Helena smacks her lips. "When England wipes the floor with you, you'll come round mine later." She tersely nods to the side, then leans back, one foot forward, crossing her arms, jutting out her chin provocatively, clearly issuing a dare. 

Myka's brows smack together in confusion. "…’round’…er…round _what_?"

Helena sighs deeply and rolls her eyes. “My _hotel room_ , you _nonce_."

"O-h….." Myka over enunciates. She not sure what a nonce is but gives an exuberantly smug grin anyway. "And if you lose?"

Helena half shrugs. "Not bothered, really. We'll be winning in _spades_ , me dear." A cocky grin colors her entire face.

Myka flicks her head back and an exasperated gasp escapes her lips. As she glares at Helena she thinks, "God this woman is so _incredibly_ full of herself. But it’s, like, _totally_ hot."

Helena arches a brow. “All right, ducks. If by some bloody miracle you tossers win, I'll come to yours.” She shifts her weight to her other foot.

Myka’s face lights up as she gives a satisfied nod and a suggestive smirk. Her exuberance soon falls flat. 

"Er, I, uh, have a roommate. Don't you?" Myka narrows her eyes.

Helena wets her lips. "Negative." Her mouth forms a small sneer as she says the word.

Myka takes a step back. "H—how? Are you, like, _special_ or something?” 

_No one_ gets their own room as a rule on Myka's team, it’s just not allowed.

“Oh, I've had any number complaints filed against me. Been called….,” Helena paces for a minute, waving a mitted hand around, tight ponytail swishing left and right, “…..a stroppy ponce, a dodgy nutter, a power-crazed twat, a complete and utter wanker….,” she stops and turns to face Myka, cocking her head thoughtfully. “…..Coach calls me incorrigible…..,” she gives a sour face then scoffs, “…..whatever the blazes that means. Sounds kinda naff, right?" 

"Ummm…..yeah.” Myka thinks she sees just a hint of crazy staring back at her from behind Helena's eyes. She shakes her head mechanically up and down, not entirely sure if she is agreeing with Helena's coach or Helena, wondering what she's gotten herself into.

Helena’s lips curl up evocatively, mind having already moved back to their previous topic. ”So your roommate, right….,” she gives an animated wink, “…..she'll just have to watch then, won’t she...…." 

Myka's swallows nervously and her shoulders tighten. She _swears_ she can feel herself blushing, then feels embarrassed if she actually is. She decides she needs to say something, _anything_ , quickly.

"Uhhh, this is like, before curfew, right? I'm not getting in trouble because of this." Myka’s eyes go wide, and she looks away, hand flying up to cover her mouth, thinking “OMG, did I just agree to this? I think I just agreed to this." If she could, she'd face-palm herself right now.

Helena's posture abruptly straightens, and she slaps Myka forcefully but playfully on the arm with her giant glowing glove. "Of course," she says, sounding unexpectedly posh. 

Myka’s hand drops but her limbs tense. 

Suddenly a ball flies out of nowhere, smacking Helena firmly in the head. Helena flinches then grimaces deeply, swiftly scanning the field for the perpetrator, revenge written in her eyes. 

_“—Wells, you plonker, stop waffling on and get your backside over here…..coach wants all of us, now!”_

Target located, Helena shouts back. _“—Oi! Sod off, Wolly. Don’t get your knickers in a twist....”_

Helena immediately turns back to Myka, voice abruptly sobering. "Bugger. Must dash, love. Best of luck and all….." She raises herself up on her toes and gives Myka a nimble peck on the cheek before cantering off gaily into the distance.

Myka raises a hand and fingers the area of the kiss as she watches Helena recede. “Bugger, indeed,” she says out loud with clear distress, then hurriedly sprints back to her team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will reiterate my disclaimer: I know nothing about soccer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game is afoot.

Myka approaches her team's side of the field with a steady gait, stopping near the bench.

Claudia strides over immediately to intercept, halting mere inches away, squarely planting her feet. 

"What the _hell_ were you doing over there?” Claudia growls angrily. 

"….over, um, _where_?” Myka offers innocently, eyes flitting to the side, steering clear of Claudia's insinuating gaze.

Claudia's lips flatten as she aggressively points across the field.

“Over _there_ , Myka, where you were busy making googly eyes with that—that _hellion_ from the other team, right before an important game....."

“….I was just….well, you know, _assessing_ the situation...." Myka emits a short self-depreciating laugh while wearing a forced smirk. 

“Oh yeah, right. ‘The situation.'” Claudia rolls her eyes. "Myka she’s _dangerous_."

Myka cocks her head. “Why?"

Claudia lets out an exaggerated sigh while minutely shaking her head. “I _saw_ that kiss, Myka….she’s _manipulative_ , and I’m _hella_ sure she’s just trying to psych you out."

Myka pouts. “H—how do you know I wasn’t, like, doing that too…..er, psyching _her_ out?” She clenches her jaw and glowers at Claudia.

Claudia places a firm hand on Myka’s shoulder and squints with a hard smile. “Because _you_ , Myka, aren’t capable of psyching _anyone_ out. _Ever_."

Myka releases an exasperated gasp. “Am _too_.” Her eyes squint, then tighten.

Claudia steps back and crosses her arms over her chest. "Myka you're too— too 'Colorado crunchy granola’…….made of, like, only organic ingredients and stuff….."

She tussles Myka’s ponytail. “…. _AND_ with your, like, cute, bubbly hair and adorable rosy cheeks, that _harpy’s_ toxicity bounces right off of you, like— like water off a duck.” 

Myka swats her away. “What are you talking about?"

Claudia gives an impatient snort. “She's _totally_ messing with your head, Myka, and you can’t see it…..” She taps a finger once on Myka’s forehead.

Myka flinches back, face pinching. “Can _too_ —"

“Can _not_ —” Claudia tilts her head back and bites her lip.

“—Ok, look. This _shred_ of wicked mojo you think you have? …… _show me_. Try it out on me. Imagine I’m her."

Myka’s face screws into a confused mass.

Claudia waves a hand furiously through the air and snaps, “Seriously, is it that hard to imagine?” 

“Well, um, _yeah_ , you’re….,” Myka scans Claudia up and down with playful disdain, “….uh, nothing like her...."

“… _fine_ ,” Claudia snorts, mouth and brows downturning harshly.

Myka’s lips tick up sheepishly, suddenly feeling sorry to have offended Claudia right before the game.

“Ummmm, ok, how do we start."

Claudia straightens her posture, and, hand hand on hip, adopts a smug smirk. Using wide steps, she struts in a small circle around Myka, then abruptly stops, glaring directly into Myka’s eyes.

With a questionable British accent and an easy nod, Claudia mouths, “Come to sex me up, 'ave you, love?” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

Myka gasps, then slaps Claudia on the arm so hard she stumbles sideways. “She _would not_ say that…"

Claudia shuffles to the left then finds her balance. “— _out loud_ , Myka. Out loud. But that _is_ what she’s thinking…..” 

Myka scoffs and tosses her head, ponytail flying dismissively.

“….I mean that’s what _you’re_ thinking, _right_?"

“ _NO_.” Myka responds immediately, but knows her attempt to fill the word with certainty is questionable at best. So she thrusts her nose in the air for effect.

Claudia's face tightens in doubt.

“Whatever you say, _lover girl,_ ” Claudia’s tone hardens, "but your head _better_ be in the game when it starts."

“Of _course_ ,” Myka blurts out a little too loudly. "I _am_ a professional.” She crosses her arms defensively with a scowl.

“Just sayin’, _love_ ……..” As Claudia mimics Helena’s manner of speaking, a small droplet of spit flies out from her teeth. She bops Myka with a finger teasingly on her nose. “…but remember, I’m _watching_ you.” Her fingers form a V as they wag between her eyes and Myka’s. 

\------

The game begins, and everyone snaps into high gear. Balls are passed, fouls are made, players are injured. The action is intense; the field hums with anxious energy and pulsing nerves. 

As halftime approaches, both teams remain nil-nil. 

After a quick pep talk from their coaches, each team trots off to their respective locker rooms to recuperate and compose themselves. 

Claudia takes Myka aside. 

“What is _up_ with you out there, Myka? Are you still thinking about that devil woman?"

“What?” Myka blows out a noisy breath and leans away. " _No!_ I'm one thousand hundred million percent in the game, Claud. I mean I _almost_ scored that goal and had that, like, impossible save…..” she looks down and shakes her head, “…..and they're just, like, really tough, right? And that number twelve really does have tricks up her sleeve….." 

Claudia squints her eyes. “What _exactly_ did that foul mouthed rabble-rouser say to you before the game?"

“Who?” Myka’s brows squish together. 

Claudia groans theatrically. “The _goalie_ , Myka. _Number 55_.....," Claudia swats the air in annoyance. "H-e-l-e-n-a," she mouths musically while blinking demurely. " _Duh._ "

“OH.” Myka jerks her head back, wide eyed. "Uhmmmm, yeah. She said, ahh, nothing that’s worth repeating....” A flush creeps across Myka’s cheeks. “….and if, like, _anything_ she was, um, daring me to win.” She gives a weak smile that slips slowly off her face.

Claudia forces her words out out though clenched teeth. “Then show that snot nosed punk what you’re made of, Myka. _Win._ ” 

\-------------

Three-quarters of the way through the second half, a foul is called.

Myka gets a penalty kick. 

Both team’s players move into place on the field.

Myka hovers close to the ball, poised and ready to score.

Helena strops around the goal, skulking back and forth, creating an obvious distraction to stall. She grabs her water bottle and squirts the liquid into her mouth then over her face while side-eyeing Myka suggestively. Her inky black ponytail flicks back and forth aggressively as she vigorously shakes off the excess moisture.

Myka waits patiently behind the line, following Helena’s movements closely with a steely reserve. She repeats to herself, “I will not be rattled, I will not be rattled, I will not be rattled…,” but as water courses over and down Helena's face and neck, Myka begins to panic. “Oh, God what _is_ she doing?” She glances around for _anything_ that might help erase the seductive sight of Helena from her mind, but finds nothing worthwhile. "Damn it, Claudia, you were right.” She tightens her fists and tries to clear her thoughts. "Focus, Myka, _focus_. You’ve _got_ to get this goal. You’ve _got_ to beat her. This could make or break the game….."

Helena finally settles into position and the two women face off in a heated state of suspension. She licks her lips while glaring at Myka with the utmost ferocity, her body tense yet loose at the same time. 

Myka's heart quickens as she narrows her eyes, glowering as causticly as possible at Helena. She gives herself a pep talk, “You can do this Bering, you can _win_. She’s just some— some— _block of wood_. All she does is use sheer _density_ to block speeding balls. You’re a _defender_ , Myka, faster— _smarter_ than her. You can _totally_ outthink her, psych her out…..”

She abruptly springs into action, running swiftly towards the ball, using her body language to signal she’s shooting left but instead kicks to the right.

The shot flies forward at a furious pace and Helena lunges laterally, soaring through the air then slamming horizontally to the ground, sliding frictionlessly sideways as if a puck on ice ……to the _right_. Her rock hard abs block Myka’s shot without a hitch.

Myka’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull as she lets out a throaty yell. She dramatically covers her face with her hands then collapses her body inwards, wrapping her arms around her stomach to keep from hyperventilating. Breathing in several deep, cleansing breaths, she willfully shakes off her disappointment and straightens her posture. She spies Claudia throwing her a death glare from the sidelines and her eyes immediately dart elsewhere. She hurriedly jogs to join the rest team further afield.

Huffing loudly through her nose in controlled bursts, she tries valiantly to clear her mind and regain some semblance of composure. She knows if she even _glances_ toward England’s goal, she not be able to stop herself from rushing over and pummeling Helena senseless. But then she'd be ejected from the game. Feeling utterly humiliated, she reaches into the depths of her soul and accepts her defeat, deciding she has to let it go and move on to win. But Helena _will_ pay for that block, _in spades_.

Senses heightened, Myka rushes around, defending harder than she’s ever defended in her life.

The game goes into overtime, but in the end, England wins with a penalty goal. 

\-----------------------------------------------

The English are exuberant, the USA downtrodden as the teams queue up to slap hands and congratulate each other on a game well played. As Helena approaches Myka in the line, she hurls herself forward, exuberantly wrapping Myka in an overzealous bear hug.

Myka lets out a tiny, high pitched whimper as her elbows press into her sides.

Helena releases her grip slowly and leans to the side, conspiratorially whispering her hotel name and room number into Myka's ear, then adding, “Use the back door, by the skip.” She holds Myka at arms length, then smacks her on the bicep, all the while wearing the most anticipatory of devilish of grins.

Myka’s eyebrows slam together as she moves in a haze toward the next player in line.

“What’s a skip?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap in updates, I've been out of town and now scrambling to catch up....


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka makes good on her deal with H.G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took a little while to update.
> 
> Also FYI: Everyone’s clothes stay on, but this chapter gets a little racy, compared to the previous ones.

The team travels back to their hotel after the game, and Myka and Claudia make their way to their hotel room.

Claudia enters first, then Myka. As the door swings shut, tensions rise.

“This is all _your_ fault, you know," Myka yells at Claudia and drops her duffel bag to the floor.

“ _How?_ ” Claudia twirls to face Myka and hurls her bag onto the bed.

Myka points angrily in Claudia’s direction. “ _You_ told me I couldn’t psych her out and— and I _believed_ you.” She smacks her fist on her chest while rising on the balls of her feet.

“So— so it was _you_ —” she cranes her neck and lobs her bulging eyes toward Claudia, “— _you_ missed that goal, not _me_.” She frowns, furrowing her brow deeply, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away, thrusting her nose in the air.

Claudia rolls her eyes and throws her hands up in the air. 

Myka twists around, glowering heatedly at Claudia. “And now…. _now_ I, like, have to sneak into her hotel room and make good on our deal— "

Claudia’s eyes widen as she glares at Myka suspiciously. “— _What_ deal?” 

“Oh, um….,” Myka drops her arms limply to her sides and turns fully toward Claudia. “…just…,” she clenches her teeth, “…. _forget_ I said that, ok?" She angles her eyes away nervously and chews on a finger.

Claudia scowls at Myka. “Myka….,” her voice lowers a pitch, “ exactly _what_ did that manipulative tramp trick you into?” 

Myka looks down and fiddles with her hands. “OH, um, _nothing_ …..”

Myka's eyes dart up briefly but flash back down upon registering Claudia’s blinding anger. She wets her lips. “We, um, sort of made a bet."

Claudia moves closer to Myka, jaw clenching. “Uh-huh. I see. Right. So tell me, Myka, just what was this _bet_ …” 

Myka looks timidly at Claudia and takes a step back, attempting to avoid her death glare. “I—,” she angles her eyes to the side, "she—,” she looks down at her feet, "we— um, agreed….if….” Myka twists on a foot and wrings her hands. Her cheeks flush slightly as her eyes angle up demurely.

“ _Spit it out, Myka_ ….” Claudia grumbles harshly, lips forming a small sneer. 

Myka’s shoulders slump as she lets out a deflating breath. “Fine.” She looks directly at Claudia. “Basically, if _we_ won, she’d sneak into our hotel room. And if _they_ won, I had to sneak into hers."

Claudia's mouth drops to the floor. “ _Seriously,_ Myka.” She spins on her heel to the side and looks away wide-eyed, then swings back to address Myka. “ _Seriously?_ You are _so_ not doing that….” She shakes her head back and forth with finality.

“But I _have_ to, Claud…” Myka implores with a head tilt.

Claudia barks out an incredulous laugh. “So you’re saying….after the game we just played, after what she did to you, that you— you _still_ have the hots for her? Because that’s just _wrong_ , Myka, so _incredibly_ wrong…” Claudia’s eyes glaze over.

“Of course not!” Myka interjects and jumps in front of Claudia’s view. She waves her hands frantically in the air. ”No no no no, that’s not what I mean.” 

“Then what the _hell_ , Myka? You don’t owe her anything,” Claudia spits out.

“Claud..." Myka pleads, eyes round, “….we're a strong team and— and they barely beat us. What if we end up playing them in the finals? If I don’t go now, how am I going to face her? She’ll have won. I mean she _already_ won but there's _no way_ I'm gonna let her win again….,” her eyes turn to steel as her face forms a sour pout. 

Claudia looks on skeptically but lifts a brow, showing a hint of intrigue.

"Plus, I _really_ want to give her a piece of my mind." 

\----------------------

Myka sneaks stealthily out of her hotel and makes her way directly to Helena’s.

Upon arrival, she rounds the back as instructed, finding a dumpster and a door, but nothing labeled “skip.” She decides to enter the door anyway.

Securely inside, she locates the stairs quickly and climbs to the second floor.

Peeking through the exit, she finds the hallway deserted. She nimbly slips around and treads silently to room number twenty-five.

She raises her arm, hand forming a fist, but lets it hover inches away from the door as she momentarily questions if this is the right thing to do. 

Laughing quietly to herself, she drops her head and shakes it back and forth, lips upturning at the ends. 

She knocks firmly twice. 

Placing her ear to the door, she hears hurried footsteps that shuffle then stop. She takes a step back. 

The door suddenly flies open. Helena lunges out a hand, grabs Myka by the elbow, and flings her into the room. She swiftly but quietly closes the door then swings around to face Myka.

“Did anyone see you?” Helena asks tersely.

“Um, no?” Myka stands stiff, one arm holding the other at the elbow, feeling a little nervous now that she’s actually inside Helena’s room.

“Good." Helena confidently strides towards Myka, arms boldly reaching up, hands clutching the sides of Myka’s jaw, pulling her down into an impatient kiss.

Myka’s hands jump up, firmly palming Helena's shoulders, frantically pushing her away.

“ _Hey!_ ” Myka yelps, eyes darting confrontationally up and down Helena’s form. Her eyes widen as they slow and stop momentarily, first taking in the beauty of Helena’s long silky mane, then traveling down to eye the deep V between her parted robe lapels.

Helena notes Myka’s attentions and gives a smug, devilish grin. “I’m afraid we haven’t much time for small talk, love.” She throws her hands up and slides them over Myka’s ears, fingers gripping the back of her skull, pulling her down into a hungry kiss, body slamming firmly into Myka’s. 

Myka startles, then acquiesces, her form melting into Helena’s, lips progressively tensing to return the kiss. Suddenly she freezes, jerking back, realizing she should protest. “Wait, why?"

“Why, what?” Helena licks her lips and lets her fingers trail from Myka’s ear, skimming the side of her neck, traveling down to trace the contours of her collar bone. She rests her hand gently on Myka’s breastbone.

Myka’s pulse rises, and she swallows nervously. “Um, time….you said something about, uh, time…"

Helena's fingertips press gingerly into Myka’s chest as she lifts herself up on her toes, craning forward, speaking softly while placing light kisses to the crook of Myka’s neck.

“I’m meant….”

Her lips trail up, grazing the edge of Myka’s t-shirt collar. 

“...to be…..”

She slows, then presses delicately into the muscle joining neck and shoulder. 

“….downstairs celebrating….”

Lips parting, she tenderly nips a pathway toward Myka’s ear.

“….with the team.” 

She nuzzles her nose intimately behind Myka’s earlobe, then whispers directly in her ear, "But I’ve feigned a headache, _for you_."

Myka gasps sharply as Helena’s hot breath hits her skin. Her eyes snap shut.

Helena shoves Myka backward and her calves hit the-the edge of the bed. She ungracefully topples over, falling flat on her back.

Helena jumps on top, knees straddling Myka’s long legs. 

Myka springs up like a hinge to object but finds herself tongue-tied when face to face with Helena. 

Helena promptly grabs Myka’s ponytail, hastily removes it’s binder and flings it with abandon across the room. She digs her fingers deeply into Myka’s curls, tousles it wildly, then roughly combs her fingers through, grabbing fistfuls and pulling Myka into a heated kiss. 

Myka apprehensively places her hands on Helena’s upper arms but tightens her grip as the kiss deepens. 

They break dramatically for air, chests heaving, nostrils flaring, eyes blazing.

Suddenly Myka’s brow furrows deeply as her brain produces a thought. “Hey, what happened to your accent?” 

“What do you mean?” Helena gazes at Myka seductively while running her fingers sensually though Myka’s flowing hair.

Myka’s head tilts, then twists in response to Helena’s touch, her lips falling slightly open and her eyes fluttering closed.

“Um….,” Myka’s already almost forgotten what she was going to say, “….like, before you were all 'arse this and bugger that.' Now you sound all..."

“ _Posh_ ,” Helena says curtly but factually.

Myka smiles sweetly as Helena’s fingers trail down to circle her ear. Her words fall off her lips listlessly. “Yeah……posh……."

Helena withdraws her hands and sits back on her haunches, pinning Myka’s legs to the bed. “Well I can’t very well sound like this on the field, now can I?” she says with an enunciated whine. 

“Why?” Myka says with an innocent blink, propping herself up on her elbows, wishing Helena’s hands were still in her hair.

“Oh jolly good, mate, could you pass me that ball, chum?” Helena pontificates, hands waving, brows rising, falling, head ticking back and forth. "That play was just _marvelous_. Spot of tea after footie?” 

She ends by falling forward, pushing Myka down, hands landing on either side of Myka’s head, mouth inches away, eyes smoldering.

"I guess I see what you mean,” Myka says thoughtlessly as her eyes flick down to covet Helena’s parted lips.

Helena drops her head and catches Myka’s mouth, kissing her softly this time, gently biting and pulling her bottom lip out and up.

Myka’s eyes close tightly, and her breath shudders, body arching up. On the edge of succumbing to Helena’s charms, her hands ball into fists, willing them to not dive into Helena’s seductive locks just yet as something nagging her consciousness rises to the surface….

Myka suddenly raises her arms, hands solidly gripping Helena’s shoulders, thrusting her up, elbows locking, face screwing into a rage.

“ _HEY_ ….wait just a minute. I’m mad at you.” She glowers at Helena, mouth pinching angrily. "You blocked my goal.” 

Helena’s lips form a seductive sneer as she hovers in plank position above Myka.

“It’s me job, love,” she replies with a heavy accent, mouth full of marbles, eyes beaming devilishly at Myka.

“Yeah, well," Myka’s face softens, "you hurt my feelings.” The longer she looks into Helena's eyes, the harder it becomes to remain angry.

“Channel that energy into kissing, Myka,” Helena says soundly as if she were a coach giving advice. Her voice deepens. “Consider this your second chance to score.” 

Myka stares tensely at Helena for a moment, then unlocks her arms, slowly lowering Helena down.

As she drops, Helena’s arms fall to prop herself up.

Myka’s hands scrub smoothly over Helena's shoulders, up her neck, then thread enthusiastically through her hair. She tightens her grip and pulls Helena down into a searing kiss.

Helena’s arms buckle, and she falls heavily on top of Myka.

Myka smiles into the kiss, hands raking through the length of Helena’s hair, stopping to rest the small of her back. 

Helena presses her body eagerly into Myka’s…..

…..Suddenly, there’s a loud knock at the door. 

Myka immediately pulls away, breathing in a sharp, deep breath. She looks anxiously across the room.

“Ignore it,” Helena mouths blithely and dives back in for another blazing kiss.

The knock comes again, but this time louder. 

A voice yells, “ _Wells, get yer arse out here. Coach wants ya downstairs, pronto!_ "

Helena breaks contact and swings her body up, twisting toward the door, hands moving to pin Myka’s shoulders down.

“Oh, bloody—,” Helena grumbles sharply. She turns toward Myka, eyes full of indignation, mouthing with a sneer, “— _Bollocks._ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka and Helena work together to get out of a tight situation.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve almost had this finished for ages, so I’m finally getting it out - hopefully not too many typos. But please enjoy the ending of this incredibly silly thing!
> 
> ALSO: I'm hoping you all can picture McShane as a woman who plays on Helena’s team who exhibits a slight regional accent. (which one? um..…let’s just say - it’s up to you) I originally wanted her to be Wolly, but kept picturing Gareth David-Lloyd in a dress, and that didn’t work for me, in this situation. (Though maybe for Jack Harkness…..)

"What do we do now?” Myka eyes Helena anxiously, fear in her voice.

"Stay here.” Helena swiftly climbs off Myka, then off the bed. She wavers as her gaze catches, then sweeps heatedly over the entirety of Myka’s lengthy form. “Don’t. Move.” 

Helena pivots sharply then reluctantly hauls herself over to the door. She leans in close to its surface.

“ _Go away_ , McShane. Tell coach I’m ill,” Helena huffs out with a sneer.

“ _Coach says I’s ta bring ya down in FIVE MINUTES, or 'e’s comin' up ta drag ya down ‘imself….._ "

Helena scoffs and rolls her eyes dramatically. “One moment…."

She strides across the room and plops heavily on the edge of the bed. 

Myka sits up and scoots back, leaning on the headboard. “Helena this is bad. Like, _really bad_. What are we going to do?"

Helena takes in a deep breath then slowly releases it.

“You could hide in the loo…,” she suggests with enthusiasm.

“In the what?” Myka’s not sure she heard that right.

"The toilet,” Helena ticks her head and throws her eyes across the room.

Myka looks over, narrowing her eyes, pinching her lips together into a grimace.

“The _bath-room,_ ” Helena enunciates both syllables separately. 

“Ohhhh,” Myka mouths, wide-eyed.

“ _Americans_ ,” Helena grumbles quietly under her breath with a frown.

“Uhhhh, isn’t that kinda obvious?” Myka scrunches up her nose.

“Do you have a better idea?” Helena barks, twisting her torso to face Myka.

“Um….," Myka quickly scans the room, “….it looks like you have a balcony. I could hide out there. Just, like, close the drapes."

McShane pounds on the door again. “ _Wells!_ "

Helena’s eyes dart to the sliding glass door. “It will have to do."

Hopping off the bed, she spins towards Myka and places her hands firmly on her hips. 

“Tallyho, spit spot, off you go….,” she orders brusquely while adding a terse nod and a stiff wave with the back of her hand.

Myka sniggers, smirking while shaking her head. She slides off the bed, sidles up to Helena and looks her straight in the eye. “You _could_ talk like that on the field, you know, instead of being all, like, _phony_. It works just fine…."

“….I _could_ , of course, but it lacks a sense of _urgency_.” Helena places a hand on Myka's chest as if to create distance, but instead leans in, lips close enough for a kiss. "For instance, you’re not following instructions, love…." 

“…mmmaybe I lack _motivation_ …,” Myka lists forward to complete the kiss.

Helena swiftly pushes her away then theatrically tosses her head, hair flying provocatively through the air in a dark wave.

Myka pouts at the lost opportunity for as kiss.

"I studied acting at uni, you know," Helena announces proudly, puffing out her chest, jutting out a lip.

Myka’s brows scrunch together, eyes blank. 

Helena huffs out a resigned sigh. “ _University_ ,” she states flatly, her tone mimicking that of an exasperated teacher. “Do you _not_ know anyone English?"

“Oh, right…..,” Myka nods her head up and down in tiny strokes, “...and, um, no,” then moves it minutely side to side.

Helena cocks her head and scrunches up her face. “You are quite _thick_ , aren’t you?"

Myka looks down and examines her body, then back up at Helena, “I don’t think so…..”

Myka's face suddenly lights up. “Oh. WAIT. Are you, like, ‘acting' now, too?” Her fingers lift to create air quotes around the word “acting."

Helena scoffs, defensively crossing her arms over her chest. “While I _may_ have proposed this little tryst on a lark, been _faffing_ about and all, I’m not _completely_ mad….."

Bang, bang, bang. “ _Wells!!_ "

"You must go.” Helena’s tone sobers instantly.

The pair moves in tandem toward the sliding glass door. Myka parts the curtain, slides the door open and walks out, quickly pivoting to face Helena. Helena leans on the doorjamb, cautiously surveying the scene.

“I suppose this will do for now. Wish me luck." Helena leans up on her toes and gives Myka a brief but passionate peck on the lips.

“Good luck,” Myka says sweetly, wearing a tiny nervous smile. 

Helena closes door and draws the curtains.

Myka places her fingers on her lips as she peeks through the window. She watches Helena march across the room and crack open the entryway door.

“ _Here I am_ , McShane.” Helena speaks louder than need be. “You’ve seen me. Now, _go away_.” 

“Ooooh no." McShane pushes hard against the door, bursting into the room. “ _Ya's_ got a bird in 'ere. I know it."

Helena purses her lips. “I most certainly _do not_."

“ _Do too_.” McShane crosses her arms over her chest and visually scans the room.

“Do no—" 

“—why ya dressed in that robe then?” McShane glowers.

“I—I was in the shower. Fending off this debilitating headache." Helena places a hand on her forehead and squints, mouth forming a grimace to indicate pain.

“ _Riiight_.” McShane nods her head slowly up and down. “Ya know yer ‘airs not wet."

McShane drops her arms and steps off to check the bathroom. Once satisfied that it’s all clear, she emerges and further examines the room.

“Ah-ha!” Crouching down abruptly, she picks a neon pink hair tie off the floor. She stands and waves it accusingly at Helena. “Where _is_ she?"

Helena narrows her eyes while she places her hands on her hips. “That's _mine_ ,” she says bluntly.

“Since when?” McShane barks. “You’d _never_ wear this blinding bit of tat."

“P-perhaps, I’m _experimenting_ ….,” Helena’s neck stiffens as her head pulls back.

“…with a certain curly 'aired _yank_?” McShane aggressively throws the hair tie at Helena.

Helena drops one arm, then waves it laterally with a swish. “Do you _see_ a defender in the room? Because I _do not_...” 

“You’re 'iding that trollop ‘ere somewhere, Wells….,” McShane grumbles, “I can _feel_ it."

McShane’s eyes dart back and forth, then hang as she notices the curtains hiding the sliding door. She gives a hearty nod and reaches for the fabric. “Behind there, eh?"

“What? No.” Helena’s tone feigns innocence. “There’s _no one else here_ , McShane….,” her tone rises in hopes Myka can hear her through the glass door.

Myka’s stomach flips and she quickly scurries away, anxiously surveying the area for an escape route. She bounds across the balcony, climbs over the railing, hangs off the edge, then swings forward and lets go, quietly dropping down to the level below. 

She hastily shimmies up to the building, hiding herself in shadow. Listening intently, she hears the door slide open, then footsteps and voices.

“As you can see, McShane, uninhabited. You’re _clearly_ delusional."

The footsteps lessen, then stop. Myka imagines McShane must be looking over the railing.

“I’m _sure_ that tart’s hidden ‘ere somewhere….,” A foot stomps, then more shuffling and stopping, “…but ya better get yer arse dressed down the pub before Coach goes _mental_."

“ _Fine_."

“And remember, I’m watchin' ya….."

One set of feet clomps off. Several seconds pass, then Myka hears soft footsteps radiating out.

“Myka?” Helena whispers, “Myka, where are you?"

Myka emerges from the shadows and finds Helena leaning over the rail. She gives a tiny wave.

“I’m sorry,” Helena’s voice projects sincere remorse.

“I’m sorry, too.” She finds herself genuinely sorry to leave, even though they both could be suspended if caught.

“Will you be alright? Do you need assistance?"

Myka looks around. “I’m ok. I’ll figure it out."

Neither woman moves.

“You'd better go."

“I know."

The stare longingly at each other, eyes beaming with the sad resonance of lost opportunities.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Myka,” Helena’s voice fills with an unexpected warmth. She then disappears. 

Myka’s eyes stay glued to the spot where Helena was. “She’s _really_ weird," she muses, mouth rising into a crooked half-grin, “But I _really_ like her."

\-------------

In the days that follow, Myka and Helena’s paths do not cross, even once. Games are played left and right, some won, some lost. The U.S. moves victoriously into the finals, while England falters, dropping down to third place.

Before their game with Japan, the U.S. warms up on the field. Myka takes a break and stands on the sidelines, water bottle in hand, proudly watching her teammates dash around the field. She suddenly hears a familiar voice greeting her from behind.

“Hello, love."

Myka’s posture stiffens, and her eyes go wide. She immediately swings around to face Helena.

“Uh, hello....” Her eyes dart up and down, noting Helena’s state of dress. She decides Helena looks more beautiful than ever in faded jeans and rock band t-shirt.

Helena’s chin drops bashfully. “Sorry about the other night. Quite unfortunate you know.” She angles her eyes up sheepishly.

“Uh-huh,” Myka nods absently as she remembers the feel of Helena’s silky hair. 

An errant ball flies past, kicking Myka into the present. She blinks hard, then realizes the _last_ thing she needs right now is Helena distracting her from this very _very_ important game. 

“Why are you here?” She waves her water bottle in Helena’s direction and tiny droplets fly through the air, hitting Helena squarely in the face.

Helena reaches up to wipe them off. “Well, I—,” she takes a second to compose herself, “—since _my_ team won’t be winning, I thought I'd stop by and wish you luck.” She smiles sweetly.

“Oh,” Myka answers flatly. She imagines Helena _must_ have a hidden agenda.

Helena takes a step in, pushes up on her toes, and kisses Myka on the cheek.

Myka’s face flushes as a warm smile lights up her face. Maybe Helena isn’t scheming?

“Oh and I wanted to give you this,” Helena reaches into a pocket, then another, and another….. “Damn. I just need to find my biro….."

“…your what?” Myka snaps, eyes following Helena’s hands as they grope along, lips forming a confused grimace.

Helena locates her target and slides out a pen. She slowly waves it in front of Myka, mouthing, “...b-i-r-o….,” then narrows her eyes, grabs Myka’s wrist and yanks it toward her, palm up.

She carefully scribbles her phone number on Myka’s skin, then flashes Myka a scintillating grin. “If you win, ring me straight away. If you lose….."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: I really wanted to use the word faff!

**Author's Note:**

> *I know very little about soccer, in general, FYI.
> 
> * Also, I have this British friend who always pulls out the most British of idioms for me whenever we meet because I'm a Yank- I thought it’d be funny to have Helena do that here.


End file.
